Chapter Twenty-Two: The Final Three Points
"What is it, Mr. Thorne?" she asked, a very slight, almost imperceptible curve at the corner of her stern mouth. "Do you not want them? I've heard you've been rather… active… in securing points for Gryffindor. This is not favoritism. You've earned them. Remember—do not discard courage once you've found it."
With a final, brisk nod, she turned and strode away, her robes swishing, leaving Elian alone in the now-silent Entrance Hall. He watched her go, his mind spinning. As Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor, Transfiguration professor, and a member of the secret Order of the Phoenix, her time was a tightly wound scroll of duty. She probably had a mountain of work waiting, likely to keep her up long into the night.
A slow grin spread across his face. He'd done it. In one fell swoop, he'd achieved everything. He hadn't just won a confrontation; he'd secured the final house points. That meant the Sling Ring was his, and the twenty-point total for his other reward was finally, miraculously, complete. He'd even earned a sliver of genuine regard from the formidable Professor McGonagall. It was a staggering success.
He didn't linger to celebrate. As soon as McGonagall vanished around a corner, he took off, his footsteps echoing as he raced through the corridors, up staircases, and into the Gryffindor common room. He ignored the curious looks from a few fifth-years by the fire, bounded up the stairs to the first-year boys' dormitory, and fell onto his four-poster bed without even bothering to take off his robes.
Astral projection.
The words pulsed in his mind with a promise of incredible freedom. Professor McGonagall's three points had been the key. The long-awaited reward was finally his.
He knew what it was meant to do: separate his spirit and consciousness from his physical body. He couldn't cast spells in that form, but that wasn't the point. It was about being unseen, untouchable, a ghost that only other spirits could perceive. If he needed to, he could make himself visible, a spectral observer. The possibilities were dizzying.
Lying perfectly still, Elian closed his eyes. He focused on the new, instinctual knowledge nestled in his mind. He took a deep, calming breath, and then… he simply stepped out.
He opened his eyes. He was sitting up, but his body still lay peacefully on the bed beneath him. He looked at his hands—they were shimmering with a soft, silver light, slightly transparent. A laugh of pure wonder escaped him, soundless in the quiet room. He willed himself to move and floated effortlessly into the air, looking down at his own sleeping form. It worked. It really worked.
In the following days, Elian explored Hogwarts in ways no ordinary student ever could. His spirit form drifted through stone walls and locked doors. He ventured into the Forbidden Forest, finally understanding its ominous name as he glided past majestic, wary unicorns and observed a herd of centaurs in a moonlit clearing, their low conversations about planetary alignments drifting to his ethereal ears. He even found the massive, ailing Acromantula, Aragog, in his dark nest, a creature of both terror and pity.
He visited the Headmaster's office multiple times, finding it empty. Dumbledore's absence was a silent reminder of the growing darkness beyond the castle walls. Part of Elian was disappointed; he had wanted to see if the greatest wizard could sense his spiritual presence. There will be another chance, he thought.
One evening, a different curiosity pulled at him. He let his spirit float upwards, through floors and rafters, until he emerged in the Ravenclaw common room.
It was breathtaking. A wide, circular room with elegant arched windows offered a stunning panoramic view of the grounds, the black lake, the Quidditch pitch, and the greenhouses. The air was quiet, filled with the soft rustle of pages and the gentle scratch of quills. It was a place of serene study, a world apart from the cozy chaos of Gryffindor Tower. For a moment, Elian thought Hermione would have loved it here.
He drifted among the bookshelves and study carrels, searching for a familiar face with long, pale hair. But Luna was nowhere to be seen amongst the diligent Ravenclaws.
(End of Chapter)
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